第54部分(第5/7 頁)

alked　in　a　confused　heat　of　religious

yearning。　She　wanted　Jesus　to　love　her　deliciously；　to　take　her

sensuous　offering；　to　give　her　sensuous　response。　For　weeks　she

went　in　a　muse　of　enjoyment。

And　all　the　time　she　knew　underneath　that　she　was　playing

false；　accepting　the　passion　of　Jesus　for　her　own　physical

satisfaction。　But　she　was　in　such　a　daze；　such　a　tangle。　How

could　she　get　free？

She　hated　herself；　she　wanted　to　trample　on　herself；　destroy

herself。　How　could　one　bee　free？　She　hated　religion；　because

it　lent　itself　to　her　confusion。　She　abused　everything。　She

wanted　to　bee　hard；　indifferent；　brutally　callous　to

everything　but　just　the　immediate　need；　the　immediate

satisfaction。　To　have　a　yearning　towards　Jesus；　only　that　she

might　use　him　to　pander　to　her　own　soft　sensation；　use　him　as　a

means　of　reacting　upon　herself；　maddened　her　in　the　end。　There

was　then　no　Jesus；　no　sentimentality。　With　all　the　bitter　hatred

of　helplessness　she　hated　sentimentality。

At　this　period　came　the　young　Skrebensky。　She　was　nearly

sixteen　years　old；　a　slim；　smouldering　girl；　deeply　reticent；

yet　lapsing　into　unreserved　expansiveness　now　and　then；　when　she

seemed　to　give　away　her　whole　soul；　but　when　in　fact　she　only

made　another　counterfeit　of　her　soul　for　outward　presentation。

She　was　sensitive　in　the　extreme；　always　tortured；　always

affecting　a　callous　indifference　to　screen　herself。

She　was　at　this　time　a　nuisance　on　the　face　of　the　earth；

with　her　spasmodic　passion　and　her　slumberous　torment。　She

seemed　to　go　with　all　her　soul　in　her　hands；　yearning；　to　the

other　person。　Yet　all　the　wh